


Whalestar Goes for a Swim

by Em_The_Anxious_Dragon



Series: Clans of Norway [4]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Drowning, F/F, F/M, Going Senile, Misbehaving Children, Monsters, Nonbinary healer, Old lesbians enjoy retirement, PuffinClan enjoying life, breaking news: love-sick deputy flirts while his leader yells at fish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29241504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_The_Anxious_Dragon/pseuds/Em_The_Anxious_Dragon
Summary: "I will not let you endanger PuffinClan."In which Maplesong tries his best, but Whalestar doesn't make it easy.
Series: Clans of Norway [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140815
Kudos: 3





	Whalestar Goes for a Swim

**Author's Note:**

> August 18 to August 21, waning gibbous moon

It’s said that there’s no better place to see the stars than PuffinClan territory. With wide open fields far from the shiny human dens by the coast, a PuffinClan cat can look up and see all their ancestors dancing in Silverpelt. Late at night, at the bottom of the dip PuffinClan called home, cats would lay out with their bellies to the sky and just watch the stars.

All Maplesong wanted to do was stargaze. Instead, he was stuck in his leader’s den, listening to… well, at that point, he wasn’t sure where the conversation was.

“I will lead Hollyshine and Breezeclaw around the western half of the pond,” Whalestar explained, poking at a circle he drew in the dirt of his den. “You take Flounderfire and Elmpatch to the other side. We will strike when the sun is directly above us!”

“Why is that?” Maplesong yawned, trying to look interested.

“The beast will be blinded by the sun and not see our approach!” Whalestar yowled, scratching out the circle. “We will drag its carcass back to camp and have a grand feast!”

“Could we consider a different approach?” Maplesong suggested. “The… the monster in the pond has yet to attack anyone. If we provoke it first, how can we be in the right?”

“Hmm, Whalestar muttered, glaring at his scratched out circle. “You make a good point. This is why I chose you to be deputy, Cootspring.”

“It’s Maplesong, not Cootspring,” Maplesong sighed.

“We still need to keep an eye on it,” Whalestar huffed. “Tomorrow, I would like to lead a patrol to investigate the pond and make sure the creature knows its place.”

“I’ll pick out a few cats to bring along,” Maplesong said.

“You may go now,” Whalestar huffed, plopping into his nest. Maplesong nodded and trotted out into camp. Gentle purrs rumbled through the nursery to the left. The only cat Maplesong could see was someone guarding the top of the camp. He only had one thing to do before he could get some sleep. Maplesong climbed up the dip to the holy den, settled just above the leader’s den. He carefully looked inside. Each herb rested in a carefully sized hole in the ground. Seabranch was asleep near the large back half, where Shimmerblaze kept their patients. The healer in question was grooming their pelt when they spotted Maplesong.

“The seers aren’t in here, right?” Maplesong whispered, glancing back at Seabranch.

“Murkstream and Archpelt took Thrushpaw out to stargaze,” Shimmerblaze explained, sitting straight. “What’s Whalestar talking about tonight?”

“The monster in the pond,” Maplesong chuckled sadly.

“I loved that story as a kit,” Shimmerblaze purred. “It was one of his favorites back when he was a story-keeper. He would tell me and Archpelt all about it.” Shimmerblaze laughed, stretching out their back legs. “StarClan, by Haddockpath’s count, Whalestar is 200 moons old! How old does that make me?”

“Young enough to serve your clan,” Maplesong sighed, “but old enough to get an apprentice already.”

“I’ll have you know, I did have an apprentice before you were born!” Shimmerblaze huffed. “His name was Orcathroat. It’s not my fault he died a few moons after he earned his name. I’ll take an apprentice when there’s a kit who wants to be a healer, and not a moment sooner. Enough about me, does Whalestar need anything?” 

“Considering his plan to attack a monster, he’s pretty stable tonight,” Maplesong muttered. “He called me Cootspring again.”

“If that continues, don’t correct him in private,” Shimmerblaze advised. “It may only distress him.”

“I just wished he would retire, and we could be done with it,” Maplesong groaned, picking at Shimmerblaze’s nest. “You know PuffinClan would do better if he became an elder.”

“I can’t condone that at his age,” Shimmerblaze sighed. “His nine lives are the only thing keeping him alive, he’s so old. It would be akin to murder to force him out. Besides, the seers would never support that, and the clan would never accept your leadership without them.” The larger cat rested their gray muzzle on Maplesong’s head. “Patience, Maplesong. He only has two lives left. Our job is to make him comfortable.”

“And make sure he doesn’t lead the clan to ruin,” Maplesong sighed. “You heard Lemmingstar at the last Gathering. CliffClan is itching for an excuse to take more territory.”

“Get some rest,” Shimmerblaze said, batting Maplesong’s claws from their nest. “We’ll take it a day at a time.” Maplesong nodded, eyes heavy with exhaustion. It seemed he was always exhausted recently. He left the holy den and hopped up to the last layer of the camp before the surface, where the warrior’s den rested. 

Most of his clan was fast asleep inside the huge den. The only sounds were the gentle shifting of dreaming cats and Tawnytide’s obnoxiously loud snoring. Elmpatch was in her nest, her tail slightly resting over Maplesong’s empty spot. His heart fluttered like an apprentice. He carefully stepped around his clanmates and settled into his nest. Maybe once Whalestar passed and he was leader. Maybe then he’d get the courage to invite her on a private patrol. Maybe by the ElkClan border, so Elmpatch could be in view of her namesake. Maybe then he could express how deeply in love he was.

But not that night. No, when Maplesong’s head hit the ground, he was deeply asleep.

* * *

Sun-high was fast approaching, and Whalestar was getting impatient. He watched his clan from the top of the boulder that sat in the camp’s center. His bones ached in the sun, but he waited. There was a threat under their very noses, and it seemed he was the only one who cared. He understood things that no other cat in his clan could. He hopped off the boulder, biting back a groan. It seemed his deputy was more forgetful than he remembered.

“Coming through!” a tiny voice cheered. Troutkit zoomed across the camp, sliding underneath Whalestar. Whalestar jumped, claws out, ready to fight. Dustkit bolted in front of him, panting.

“Slow down!” she whined, hurrying after her brother.

“Troutkit, watch where you’re running!” Deerwhisker called, poking her head out of the nursery. “I’m sorry, Whalestar. They’re restless today.”

“Ah, yes, kits,” Whalestar stammered, hiding his unsheathed paw. “Right.” His guts twisted. It was just a kit, nothing more. He slunk to the next layer of the camp.

Inside the holy den, Thrushpaw sat in a circle with Archpelt and Murkstream, eyes closed. The older seers had their eyes closed as well. Thrushpaw’s feet tapped the ground.

“Should I be seeing something?” Thrushpaw sighed. Murkstream shushed him. Shimmerblaze watched the strange meditation circle from the back of the den as they carefully applied a burdock poultice to Seabranch’s chewed up paw.

“Hello, Thrushpaw,” Shimmerblaze said in a wobbly, spooky voice. Thrushpaw gasped while Murkstream glared at Shimmerblaze. Archpelt tried to hold in a laugh. “This is StarClan, here to tell you… you look like a mouse-brain!” Thrushpaw opened his eyes, confused. Archpelt burst out laughing.

“Shimmerblaze, we are trying to teach Thrushpaw how to achieve a state of inner peace to access StarClan,” Murkstream snapped.

“You look like frightened mice,” Shimmerblaze chuckled. “Couldn’t you meditate outside?”

“Perhaps a prayer to StarClan can speed up my mom’s healing,” Thrushpaw suggested. “Prayers work better the closer you are to the cat needing them. At least I think so.”

“I’m just fine, my fluttering bird,” Seabranch purred, glancing over her shoulder. “A mangy old rat won’t keep your mother down.”

“Seabranch will rejoin the warriors once her infection clears up,” Shimmerblaze sighed. Whalestar padded outside the holy den, glancing inside. His eyes weren’t what they used to be, even with the lives of a leader. He didn’t see Maplesong’s russet coat inside, though, and continued up.

The cat in question was above the camp, laying in the warm grass beside Haddockpath as the silver molly’s apprentice, Brightpaw, stalked around Codpaw. Codpaw was curled up, playing dead.

“Since Codpaw isn’t actually dead,” Haddockpath explained, “she has a list of details she can give to you with the right questions. Try and figure out how she died.”

“What’s the point of it?” Codpaw groaned, stretching her back legs. “Most cats die in battle, don’t they? It’s easy to tell what happened.”

“Maybe, but can you tell who killed them in that battle just from the dead cat’s wounds?” Haddockpath scoffed with a flick of her tail. “Can you sniff a wound and tell if the opponent had Foaming Madness? The details are important.”

“Shh, you died,” Brightpaw huffed, shoving Codpaw’s face down. “Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“No,” Codpaw sighed, clawing at the grass.

“You’re curled up, I assume you died that way?”

“Yep.”

“What’s your rank?”

“Elder.”

“Oh, is it old age?” Brightpaw turned to her mentor.

“What’s your evidence?” Haddockpath asked.

“The cat was old and sleeping,” Brightpaw explained. “It seems right.”

“See if you’re right,” Haddockpath sighed. “Look for evidence. You never asked if they were sleeping, only if they died in that position.”

“Oh, did you die in your sleep?” Brightpaw asked, turning back to her sister.

“I was wide awake,” Codpaw grumbled. “It was a painful death. Hated it.”

“Stick to what Haddockpath told you,” Maplesong warned.

“What do you smell like?” Brightpaw asked.

“Snow,” Codpaw muttered. “Dead leaves.”

“Are you cold?”

“Of course I’m cold, I died!” Codpaw shot to her paws.

“Codpaw!” Maplesong huffed, standing.

“Who cares about the dead?” Codpaw spat, tearing up the grass. “I want to help cats that are alive, not waste my time playing pretend!” 

“I asked you to help your sister with her training, and you go and disrespect her?” Maplesong groaned, moving to his apprentice’s side.

“I can’t even do it right,” Codpaw grumbled, staring at the ground.

“Part of a counselor’s job is to keep their clanmates’ skills sharp,” Maplesong explained. “Joining these training sessions helps them feel useful and important, like they can do their jobs when the time comes. I was going to bring you to the ElkClan border to meet with their counselors, but you’re going to groom Houndcall and Gingertail instead.” Codpaw scowled at her mentor. “Counselors are here to help. Maybe this will remind you of that.” Codpaw stomped towards the camp, claws digging up the grass as she hopped into camp. Brightpaw sat near Maplesong with flat ears.

“Did they freeze to death, Haddockpath?” Brightpaw asked meekly.

“That’s right,” Haddockpath sighed. “You did a good job.”

“Codpaw’s just moody,” Brightpaw grumbled, tail whisking the grass.

“Maplesong!” Whalestar called. Maplesong spun around. Whalestar climbed out of camp, joints cracking.

“Yes?” Maplesong asked.

“Are you ready to go?” Whalestar asked.

“Go where?” Maplesong sighed, cocking his head.

“The pond, the pond!” Whalestar groaned, pacing about. Maplesong’s blood drained from his face. Whalestar remembered that? “Do you have cats picked out?”

“Well,” Maplesong stammered, glancing at Haddockpath and Brightpaw. “These two can accompany us. I’ll grab one more cat and we’ll be on our way! There’s bound to be some lovely hunting around there today.” Maplesong scampered past his leader, leaving Haddockpath and Brightpaw with confused looks. Did he seriously just say Brightpaw could come along? The moment Whalestar embarrassed himself, Brightpaw would spread gossip throughout the camp, and everyone in PuffinClan would realize how weak their leader is. He looked inside the warrior’s den. He barely registered which cats were inside, he just said the first name that came to mind.

“Elmpatch!” Maplesong called. Elmpatch was in the middle of a conversation with Swiftflake, chuckling at some unheard joke. She looked over her shoulder. Maplesong’s voice caught in his throat. “Are you free for a hunting patrol?”

“Sure,” Elmpatch chirped. “See you later, Swiftflake!” Elmpatch trotted out of the warrior’s den with a smile. Wait, was she flirting with Swiftflake? Were they dating? Maplesong hid his panic as he led Elmpatch out of camp.

Whalestar, Brightpaw, and Haddockpath were still awkwardly waiting outside camp when Maplesong and Elmpatch showed up. Whalestar stared at his tail, deep in thought about monsters and fish.

“We’re heading to the pond?” Brightpaw confirmed.

“Onwards!” Whalestar declared, snapping out of his head. He marched away from camp, barely glancing back at his patrol. Elmpatch didn’t seem to notice her leader’s odd behavior and dutifully trotted after him. Maplesong, Haddockpath, and Brightpaw took the rear. 

“Hey, Maplesong?” Brightpaw asked softly, neck buried in her shoulders. “Does Codpaw hate me?”

“Now why would you think that?” Maplesong gasped, glancing down at the young molly.

“She never seems interested in me anymore,” Brightpaw huffed. “She gets annoyed anytime I ask her to do something.”

“Story-keepers and counselors have very different training,” Maplesong sighed. “Her interests don’t connect with your tasks.”

“Thrushpaw’s always busy with seer training, I don’t want to lose my sister too,” Brightpaw whined, gritting her teeth. “My mom’s a warrior and my dad’s a counselor, neither get what I like to do. I feel like I’m losing my family.”

“Try and talk to them about how you feel,” Maplesong suggested. “Your parents love you. I can think of a few things you can do with both of them. When your mother leaves the holy den, you can go hunting together. And surely Flounderfire would love to hear about your day when you share tongues.”

“I don’t like hunting,” Brightpaw grumbled.

“Love is give and take, Brightpaw,” Haddockpath mused behind her. “Sometimes you do less enjoyable activities for the sake of spending time with loved ones.”

The pond was occupied that day with a small flock of white herons. Their beaks gently dove into the water and came out with splashing fish. They kicked up the mud below, turning the water brown. Whalestar hurried to the pond’s shore, scaring the herons into flight.

“I will take the other side of the pond,” Whalestar explained, though that was the only explanation he would give for a while. He walked along the steep shore, staring at the water. Elmpatch, Brightpaw, and Haddockpath looked to Maplesong.

“Let’s spread out and find some prey,” Maplesong ordered, waving his tail around the pond. Haddockpath took her apprentice a few tail-lengths away from the pond and began to stalk. Elmpatch took to the shore and sniffed around for frogs. Maplesong just stood there for a minute, looking rather confused. It was unbecoming of a deputy, but he couldn’t help it. 

He padded the opposite direction of Elmpatch and sniffed around. A frog croaked from the reeds along the pond’s lower shore. Maplesong carefully padded towards the sound. He crouched like a stiff log, joints locked in an awkward position. The frog’s leg stuck out of the reeds. Maplesong jumped, claws outstretched. He landed a tail-length away from the frog, his muzzle scraping the ground and his flank in the air. The frog scampered out of the reeds and into the murky pond. Someone started to laugh. Maplesong looked up. Elmpatch was walking towards him, nearly collapsing with laughter.

“What was that?” Elmpatch wheezed. “You, you hunt like a kittypet!” Her words broke up in the middle of her laughter. Maplesong’s ears went hot.

“You should focus on your own hunting,” Maplesong snapped, wiping his muzzle.

“How can I when you pounce like that?” Elmpatch giggled. “Shouldn’t the deputy be able to catch his own prey?” Now most deputies would punish their warriors for such blatant disrespect regarding a bad catch. Maplesong knew he should reprimand Elmpatch. But he couldn’t bring up the words.

“I was a counselor before I was deputy,” Maplesong sighed. “Teaching counselors how to hunt is a new thing, I was never taught. Whalestar’s teaching me what I need to know.” At least, he was supposed to. The ancient leader was poking at the pond, staring deep through the mud. He wouldn’t be teaching Maplesong anything soon.

“Then let me help you!” Elmpatch chuckled. “We can’t have our deputy hunting like a kit! You can be my apprentice!”

“I’m older than you,” Maplesong scoffed, chuckling slightly.

“Come on, apprentice,” Elmpatch chuckled. “Hunting frogs is tricky for beginners. Let’s go find a rabbit.”

“Let’s keep that nickname between the two of us, okay?” Maplesong chuckled. Elmpatch was going to teach him to hunt! He had to restrain his excitement.

While Elmpatch led her love-sick deputy to the hills beyond the pond, Whalestar’s paws were stuck in the mud. He had yet to take his eyes off the water.

“Come on, monster,” Whalestar muttered. “I’ve heard your rumblings. I know the old stories. You would swallow warriors whole when it suited you. You may be peaceful now, but sooner or later you will grow hungry again. I will not let you endanger PuffinClan.” Whalestar swiped at the pond. “Come to the surface, beast. There’s a tasty treat here for you.” The ripples faded. The mud was starting to settle. Whalestar could see his face reflected in the pond. His smoky gray fur was covered in thick patches of old silver. His eyes sunk into his skull, trying to hide from the steady passage of time. When did the shine of his green eyes fade? Something shimmered in his reflection.

“There you are!” Whalestar hissed. He plunged both paws into the water and clawed hard. He flung the water into his face, coating his chest with thinning streaks of mud. Whalestar coughed out the murky water. When he looked back at the pond, the shimmer was gone. 

“Come back!” Whalestar gasped, reaching his paw into the water like he was pulling someone over a cliff face with one paw. His chin hit the ground, sticking into the mud. “Come back.”

Across the pond, Elmpatch and Maplesong crouched at the tip of a hill, watching their prey. A gray rabbit chewed on the grass, perfectly content with its life.

“Rabbits are fast, aren’t they?” Maplesong asked.

“Yeah, but so are we,” Elmpatch giggled. “I’ll sneak left, you sneak right. When we’re in place, I’ll run at it and scare it towards you. Catch it before it runs past!” Elmpatch crept around the rabbit, ears turning to face it at all times. Maplesong copied her, his flank in the air. His claws kept him steady as he moved around the hill. Elmpatch wiggled as she readied herself for her sprint. Maplesong stopped a few tail-lengths from the rabbit. The wind blew into his face. The rabbit looked up, turning around. It made eye contact with Elmpatch. The young warrior sprung into action, bolting towards the rabbit. The rabbit scurried forward, and Maplesong acted quickly. He jumped just as the rabbit passed him. He pinned it by the torso, belly up. He did it, he caught a rabbit!

“Bite it!” Elmpatch yowled. Oh, right, he had to kill it! In Maplesong’s moment of confusion, the rabbit kicked and scratched at his chest. Maplesong let go. The rabbit scrambled to its feet and bolted away.

“Rabbit-dung!” he cursed, watching the rabbit run. Elmpatch slipped beside him.

“Why didn’t you bite it?” Elmpatch asked.

“I…” Maplesong stammered, “I didn’t realize I had to. Whalestar hasn’t taught me to hunt.”

“Even kittypets know to bite their prey when they catch it,” Elmpatch huffed. “It’s instinct.” Maplesong's tail thrashed. Did Elmpatch have to make him feel useless? “Aw come on, don’t feel bad! It’s okay! You’ll learn! You’ll catch the next rabbit.”

“If the other clans find out I can’t hunt, I’ll be a joke,” Maplesong sighed, sitting.

“That’s why I’m gonna teach you!” Elmpatch chirped, playfully batting Maplesong’s shoulder.

“I’m not sure,” Maplesong muttered, staring at the pond.

“It’ll be fun, promise,” Elmpatch insisted. “Let’s catch up with the others, I’m sure they’ve caught something!” Elmpatch trotted back towards the pond, where Haddockpath sat by the shore as Brightpaw snuck through the reeds. She had a rabbit at her paws. Brightpaw bolted deeper into the reeds as a toad’s death croak struck the air. She emerged from the reeds with a wart covered toad.

“Good catch,” Haddockpath purred. As Maplesong got closer to the pond, Whalestar merged with the main group, water dripping off his chest fur.

“Whalestar, did you go into the pond?” Maplesong asked, his frustration growing. Whalestar didn’t answer, looking back at the water.

“There isn’t much prey around here,” Haddockpath sighed. “Brightpaw got lucky though. She caught this rabbit too.”

“We should come back tomorrow,” Whalestar huffed. “Bring more warriors.” He stalked past the story-keeper and apprentice and stopped by Maplesong. “This wasn’t a hunting patrol, Maplesong.”

“I need to check in with Codpaw,” Maplesong said, ignoring his leader. He flicked his ears in the direction of camp. Elmpatch gladly took the lead, trotting across the hills like nothing was wrong. Brightpaw took her catches, having thrown off the gloom of her sister’s disrespect. Haddockpath stayed by Whalestar, watching him that strange wisdom of a cat who likely had the same leadership qualities Whalestar had in his prime.

At camp, Codpaw carefully dabbed a mouse bile soaked piece of moss onto a stubborn tick on Gingertail’s shoulder. The elder casually ate a rabbit as Codpaw worked.

“At that point, mind you, things were looking tough for young Valerianpaw,” Houndcall said, head resting on Gingertail’s back as she told her story. “Whalestar’s eye was still blind and puffy at that point. But I kept on insisting. I said ‘Whalestar, this young apprentice was only doing her job. The roof of your den was weak, and she was assigned to fix it. She could not do her job with the materials she had! Your den needed sturdy branches, so she got sturdy branches. She can’t be blamed for the branch breaking through the roof and poking your eye.’ Now, if he stayed blind in that eye, she would have been stuck in clan silence for a long time. But I got her punishment down to three days of den repair duty and hunting for Whalestar until he could see again.”

“You did a wonderful job,” Gingertail purred. The tick let go of Gingertail’s shoulder. Codpaw dropped the moss in disgust.

“Alright, I finally have all your ticks out,” Codpaw grumbled. “Can I leave?”

“For a counselor’s apprentice, you’re rather harsh,” Gingertail noted with a chuckle.

“Because I don’t want to clean out ticks,” Codpaw huffed.

“Even as I treat you to my stories?” Houndcall chuckled.

“Your stories are nice, but there are better things I could be doing with my time,” Codpaw muttered, glancing outside the den. “Maplesong was going to take me to the ElkClan border. It’s so easy to get Frogbelly to give up pine bark for Bumblepaw’s kitheart. I was going to get PuffinClan two mouthfuls of it!”

“Ah, so you’ll talk to ElkClan, but not to your own clanmates,” Houndcall realized, resting both paws on Gingertail’s back.

“You’re making it sound like I don’t like PuffinClan,” Codpaw snapped. “I do! Working with the other clans is the best way to help PuffinClan. Can’t you clean your own ticks?”

“My teeth aren’t what they used to be,” Gingertail sighed.

“And with these eyes,” Houndcall said, blinking her blind blue eyes, “I’d be more likely to bite Gingertail than her ticks.” At that moment, Whalestar hopped into the center of camp and stalked past the elder’s den. Codpaw watched as he limped into his dark and lonely den, face fixed in a frown.

“You guys are Whalestar’s age, and he’s still working,” Codpaw grumbled, sitting. Gingertail and Houndcall started to laugh. Houndcall rolled off Gingertail, trying to restrain herself. Codpaw’s fur fluffed up with embarrassment. “What? What did I say?”

“Codpaw, no one is as old as Whalestar,” Gingertail giggled. “He was a senior story-keeper by the time Houndcall and I were born. He’s the oldest cat in the clans.”

“He should have retired long ago too, if you ask me,” Houndcall sighed, her laughter calming down. “Whalestar hasn’t been the same since Murkstream was born, well, thirty moons ago.”

“He has nine lives,” Codpaw said, cocking her head. “They let him be strong and healthy so he can serve PuffinClan.”

“It seems Whalestar is the exception,” Houndcall mumbled.

“Maplesong says we aren’t supposed to doubt our leader,” Codpaw huffed, puffing out her chest. “He’s deputy, so he must know what he’s talking about! It’s in the code, too!”

“Take it from a former story-keeper,” Houndcall sighed, standing and padding over to Codpaw. “When you’re young, we lay down the code in strict terms so you understand how and why you follow it. But as you get older, there are exceptions to the code. You use what you know to sort through them as best you can. A touch of your education and a little common sense can get you through most problems.”

“So we should question Whalestar?” Codpaw asked.

“Keep the code close to your heart,” Houndcall sighed, placing her paw on Codpaw’s chest, “and you’ll know what to do.”

“I think you’ve been punished enough,” Gingertail chuckled. “Maybe if you’re nice, Maplesong will take you to the ElkClan border anyway.” Codpaw’s ears perked up.

“Bye, Gingertail!” she yowled, darting out of the den. “Bye, Houndcall!” Gingertail giggled again, rolling onto her back. Houndcall shook her head.

“Were we ever that young?” Gingertail sighed as Houndcall curled up beside her.

“Maybe you were,” Houndcall grumbled. “I was always an old soul.” Gingertail laughed again. The two closed their eyes and continued enjoying their peaceful retirement.

* * *

Codpaw didn’t earn back that trip to the ElkClan border that day, since Maplesong was too occupied with Whalestar and his feelings towards Elmpatch. The rest of the day was rather dull, but at least the next day brought actual counselor tasks. They just weren’t the counselor tasks Codpaw was wishing for.

“I can’t do this, Maplesong,” Tallfur whined as the patrol neared Eagle Roost. Tallfur’s ears were pressed back, her tail tucked underneath her. “I can’t go near there.”

“We won’t go close,” Maplesong assured her. “We’re just going within sight of it.”

“You have me to protect you,” Breezeclaw declared, smiling.

“They’re all probably out hunting, anyway,” Codpaw added.

“They’re hunting?” Tallfur gasped, freezing and looking at the sky.

“It’s okay,” Maplesong stammered, running his tail down Tallfur’s back. “You’re safe.” As Breezeclaw licked her head, Maplesong glared over her back at Codpaw. Codpaw was suddenly very interested in a nearby blade of grass.

Over the crest of a nearby hill was Eagle Roost, a dead white tree with branches like claws reaching to the sky. Eagle feathers littered the grass. A hawk nestled in the higher branches, watching the world. As soon as Tallfur laid eyes on the tree, she stopped walking again.

“I think this is close enough,” she stammered, crouching, not taking her eyes off the tree.

“That’s alright,” Maplesong assured her. “We’re taking kit steps here. The eagle grabbed you only three moons ago, you’re allowed to be hesitant.” Maplesong sat beside her while Breezeclaw padded around, carefully watching Eagle Roost. “Does having your father watch for eagles make you feel better?”

“I wouldn’t have come without him,” Tallfur huffed.

“Birds of prey are so goofy looking,” Codpaw laughed, squinting at the hawk in the tree. “They’d be useless without their wings.” Codpaw jumped and balanced on her back legs, flapping her front paws. “Look at me, I’m a flightless eagle! I’m gonna get trampled by an ox!” Tallfur chuckled as Codpaw fell back to her paws. She looked to Maplesong, expectation glittering in her eyes. Maplesong nodded. Codpaw smiled. She did something right!

As Maplesong and Codpaw did their counselor duties, Whalestar led a patrol across the fields towards the pond. Elmpatch trotted beside her older sister Tawnytide, while Flounderfire and Hollyshine strolled on either side of their leader. Whalestar scanned the horizon, ears perked for threats.

“When’s the last time Whalestar led a patrol?” Tawnytide asked, whispering in Elmpatch’s ear.

“He just went on one yesterday with me, Maplesong, Haddockpath, and her apprentice,” Elmpatch chirped. “We went to the pond then too. Whalestar got soaked.”

“Was he trying to fish?” Tawnytide chuckled.

“No idea,” Elmpatch said. “I was hunting with Maplesong.”

“Ah, was that his idea or yours?” Tawnytide giggled.

“Mine,” Elmpatch explained, clearing missing the point. “He needs a bit of hunting practice. He was a counselor, after all.”

“Have you seen how he looks at you?” Tawnytide laughed.

“A lot of toms look at me like that,” Elmpatch said, eyes scanning for rabbits.

“Because a lot of toms want to date you,” Tawnytide scoffed, gently bumping into her sister. “Even Redburr was flirting with you at the last Gathering, and he’s from SealClan!”

“Oh, rabbit, be right back!” Elmpatch gasped. She bolted from the patrol, zooming towards a little hare at the top of a nearby hill. When she ran past, Whalestar jumped, claws out, looking around. The hare raced left, but Elmpatch was too fast for it. She tackled it to the ground and gave it a killing blow. Tawnytide rolled her eyes, smiling. Whalestar smoothed over his fur. He was lucky the warriors didn’t notice his odd reaction, as Hollyshine and Flounderfire politely cheered for Elmpatch’s catch.

“Why waste time on rabbits?” Whalestar hissed, stalking past the patrol. Tawnytide joined him, rolling her eyes as her little sister proudly showed off her catch like a new apprentice.

“So, Whalestar,” Tawnytide said, casually flicking her ears. “What’s on your mind? You seem like you’re looking for something.”

“I asked you to come along for a reason,” Whalestar huffed. “What do the old stories say of the monster in the pond?” Tawnytide cocked her head. Didn’t Whalestar already know that story? Maybe he needed a refresher.

“It’s the size of a human monster,” Tawnytide said, “but it’s lanky like a fish so it can hide in the pond comfortably. It eats fish and birds and sometimes full grown cats. It’s said if it gets too hungry, it will crawl out of the pond and attack the camp.” Whalestar bristled. The pond came into view, still and clear like a piece of the sky.

“What are its weaknesses?” Whalestar asked, picking up the pace.

“It took the whole clan to drive it back to the pond when it climbed out,” Tawnytide said hesitantly, matching her leader’s pace. “It’s been around since our territory was shared by CliffClan and ElkClan. There’s a few ElkClan story-keepers who know the story. That probably means the story came from ElkClan and stayed with PuffinClan.” Whalestar approached the pond’s shore, staring into the water. His reflection was clearer today. He sneered, showing off his yellowing teeth. Tawnytide started sniffing for prey.

Elmpatch, Flounderfire, and Hollyshine joined Tawnytide and Whalestar by the pond. Hollyshine buried Elmpatch’s catch for her as the younger warrior stalked through the reeds. Tawnytide stlked a field mouse that sniffed around a small abandoned rabbit burrow. While Flounderfire and Hollyshine tracked down more rabbits, Elmpatch trotted up to Whalestar, who still stared at his reflection. Elmpatch looked down too. She made a silly face in the water. Whalestar glanced at the young warrior and smiled softly. Elmpatch gave her leader a goofy grin.

Something splashed in the center of the pond. Elmpatch saw the flick of a fish fin disappear under the water. Whalestar saw something else in the ripples. He took a step back, staring with awe.

“Be ready, young one,” Whalestar ordered. “Go to the other side of the pond.”

“Yes, sir,” Elmpatch said, racing around the shore. She brushed past Tawnytide, who looked up as she passed. Whalestar’s claws steadied his shaking. Flounderfire approached Whalestar, a rabbit in his jaws. He didn’t outright question his leader, but he was surely confused. After all, PuffinClan didn’t fish. So why did Whalestar glare into the pond with the bloodlust of a hunter? Hollyshine, meanwhile, was more focused on stalking a nearby puffin than his leader. If he could snag a feather for Elmpatch, maybe the young molly would be impressed?  
“It’s here,” Whalestar grumbled, crouching in a hunting stance.

“What is?” Flounderfire asked, glaring into the water. Tawnytide heard Whalestar’s remark as well. The pieces united in her mind.

“Whalestar, you can’t believe…” Tawnytide huffed, moving towards Whalestar. Just under the surface of the water, something swam past, creating small ripples.

“Attack!” Whalestar yowled. He lept into the water, claws out. Elmpatch looked around for the attacker, missing Whalestar’s jump. Hollyshine yelped and spun about, doing the same thing Elmpatch did. Flounderfire and Tawnytide were the only ones to realize what Whalestar was attacking. 

Now, the situation would be less concerning if perhaps, Murkstream was there. Despite the general lack of streams or water in PuffinClan, the seer taught herself to swim, ‘just in case’. But Murkstream was not there. And no one else in PuffinClan knew how to swim.

“Whalestar!” Tawnytide gasped. Whalestar slammed into the water. It stung his eyes, blinding him. He flailed his claws about, searching for the monster. It lurked just out of reach, watching him, taunting him. From above, Whalestar looked like a crazed fish, splashing beyond the shore, clawing and hissing. Elmpatch and Hollyshine finally noticed the excitement.

“Is there something in the pond?” Elmpatch asked. Flounderfire didn’t care who or what else was there. He stumbled through the water towards the splashing mess he called a leader. Hollyshine hurried after him, holding his head up as he kicked his way across the pond.

“Be careful!” Tawnytide called. Flounderfire dove under the water. Whalestar was half submerged, still kicking and scratching about. Flounderfire swam into Whalestar and grabbed his leader by the scruff. He backflipped in the water, trying to keep his head and Whalestar’s head in the air.

“What are you doing?” Whalestar hissed, coughing out water. Hollyshine clumsily swam to the other side of Whalestar and helped support him. The two warriors guided their leader back to shore. Tawnytide and Elmpatch hurried to meet them. When they got close, Elmpatch grabbed Hollyshine by the scruff and helped pull him out. The three soaked cats crawled onto dry land, mud coating their bellies. Whalestar hacked up water while the younger cats caught their breath.

“What just happened?” Elmpatch stammered.

“I ordered an attack!” Whalestar coughed, glaring at Flounderfire. “You are cowards, all of you!

“Whalestar, what were we supposed to attack?” Flounderfire groaned. “There’s no one nearby but us.” Whalestar crawled to the edge of the pond. The surface grew still, lacking any sign of his scuffle. He clawed at the mud.

“It’s gone back below,” Whalestar growled. “I had it!”

“We should get back to camp,” Hollyshine said, shivering. “I don’t want to catch a chill.”

“We couldn’t obey your orders when we didn’t know what to fight,” Flounderfire sighed. Whalestar glared at Flounderfire, and curled his lip. He stalked away from the shore, tail thrashing.

“Hey, Elmpatch,” Tawnytide whispered as the toms followed Whalestar. “I’ll take your catch back to camp. Maplesong is out by Eagle Roost with Tallfur. Can you go get him and tell him what happened?”

“Sure!” Elmpatch chirped. She sprinted across the territory like a rabbit, zooming through the hills. Tawnytide sighed and caught up to the toms. She walked beside Hollyshine, watching Whalestar.

“Why did he jump into the pond?” Hollyshine wondered.

“I may know why,” Tawnytide admitted.

Across the territory at Eagle Roost, Tallfur was mildly comfortable being in sight of the tree. Breezeclaw trotted around his daughter, stretching and keeping a constant eye out. Maplesong sat beside the young story-keeper with ears turned to her and a patient look.

“They could pick up a cat at any moment,” Tallfur sighed, glaring at an eagle grooming in the upper branches. “You can’t defend yourself from something above you. Badgers and foxes, I can handle. I can’t handle something I can’t hope to reach.”

“All of PuffinClan will fight to protect you,” Maplesong assured her. He glanced over Tallfur’s back towards Codpaw, who laid with her belly to the sky, batting at clouds. “Codpaw, is there anything you want to add that could make Tallfur more comfortable?”

“Huh?” Codpaw gasped, rolling to her paws. “Uh… the territory’s plenty big. I say if you don’t like Eagle Roost, then you don’t have to come over here.”

“Avoiding Eagle Roost will only strengthen her fear of eagles,” Maplesong sighed. “By exposing herself to it, she can grow more confident. There’s a lot to learn from your experiences, Tallfur. As a story-keeper, you can teach future generations the dangers of meddling with birds of prey.”

“I wasn’t meddling, I was minding my own business and it grabbed me!” Tallfur huffed, looking away from Eagle Roost.

“I mean you can prevent other cats from a similar fate by teaching them the warning signs of an eagle attack,” Maplesong said quickly, hoping to recover. “Turn your trauma into something useful.” Maplesong glanced back at Codpaw, who had gone back to batting the clouds. “Are you listening, Codpaw?”

“Yes, sir,” Codpaw said, still batting clouds. 

“Someone’s coming,” Breezeclaw noted, flicking his tail south. A dark blur tore through the hills towards the group. It was Elmpatch. Elmpatch dug her feet into the grass to slow her approach, slowing to a hop. She stopped beside Maplesong with a gentle jump.

“Hey, Maplesong,” Elmpatch said. “Tawnytide sent me to tell you Whalestar fell in the pond.”

“He what?” Maplesong gasped, hopping to his feet. Out of everything his leader could remember, why did he remember the story of the monster in the pond with such clarity?

“Yeah, he’s soaked,” Elmpatch chuckled. “He’s going to see Shimmerblaze right now.”

“I should check on him,” Maplesong huffed, turning in the direction of camp.

“Thank StarClan, I can get out of here,” Tallfur groaned, scampering away from Eagle Roost.

“Tell me everything that happened,” Maplesong asked as Breezeclaw and Codpaw followed Tallfur, hurrying to catch up to her semi-panicked jog.

While Elmpatch did her best to fill in the details of the incident, the rest of the patrol was already back at camp, spread throughout the holy den. Shimmerblaze licked Whalestar’s fur the wrong way, trying to warm him up. Seabranch did the same thing to Flounderfire, fussing over his ruined pelt.

“Don’t suppose you’ll help warm me up?” Hollyshine chuckled awkwardly to Murkstream, who sat near the back of the den enjoying a meal.

“Groom yourself,” Murkstream grumbled, barely glancing up from her food. Hollyshine frowned, settling into a nest and licking his leg.

“You aren’t a fish, Whalestar,” Shimmerblaze sighed, shaking her head. “There’s no point in jumping into the pond.”

“You won’t understand,” Whalestar hissed, thrashing his tail. He rested his head in his nest. “No one understands simple commands anymore.”

“Tell me about it,” Murkstream muttered. “I asked Thrushpaw to gather thistle to place around the nursery in the hopes of blessing PuffinClan with more queens. He brought back dandelions. Thank StarClan he is not a healer.” Whalestar growled softly, covering his face with a paw. At that point, Maplesong strolled into the holy den, frantically looking for Whalestar.

“Is Whalestar alright?” he asked, looking at Shimmerblaze.

“I’m fine,” Whalestar grunted, sitting up. He shoved Shimmerblaze away. “I don’t need anymore grooming, I’m just fine.”

“You’re still muddy,” Shimmerblaze sighed, flicking a paw at Whalestar’s mud covered legs.

“I will groom myself,” Whalestar hissed. He marched out of the holy den, glaring at Maplesong as he passed. Whalestar trudged through camp and slipped into his den.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the nest,” Seabranch sighed, resting her head on Flounderfire’s shoulder.

“Don’t insult Whalestar,” Murkstream warned. “He’s still your leader.”

“Shimmerblaze, can we talk?” Maplesong groaned, tail drooping.

“You both can leave when you’re warm,” Shimmerblaze advised, glancing between Flounderfire and Hollyshine. “Seabranch, as long as your paw doesn’t ache, I don’t see why you can’t rejoin the warriors.”

“Thank you, Shimmerblaze!” Seabranch chirped. Flounderfire nuzzled his mate. Shimmerblaze trotted out of the holy den. Maplesong led them a few tail-lengths away, away from any of their clanmates.

“He usually forgets these things after a day,” Maplesong hissed, glancing back and forth between Shimmerblaze and Whalestar’s den. “Why is he still obsessed with the pond?”  
“I deal with physical wounds, not emotional,” Shimmerblaze sighed. “The best I can tell you is, he’s latched onto a clear memory. He doesn’t realize his memory is just a story.”

“Can you give him some poppy seeds to calm him down?” Maplesong begged. “This is the last thing he should remember.”

“I can spare a few,” Shimmerblaze admitted, “but we will have to hide them. He’s been refusing my help more and more.”

“I trust you to handle it,” Maplesong groaned, looking around camp. “I need to arrange mid-day border patrols. You need to tell the cats who were with Whalestar not to gossip about what he did. We don’t need the whole clan doubting him.”

“Hey, Maplesong!” Codpaw hopped down beside her mentor. “Tawnytide just told me—”

“Whatever she told you, don’t repeat it to anyone else,” Maplesong snapped, fur bristling. Codpaw stepped back. “I need to have a talk with Tawnytide.” Maplesong climbed to the upper level of camp.

“I was just going to say she told me you were training with Elmpatch,” Codpaw grumbled into her chest. “You don’t have to be mean about it.”

* * *

“If it climbs out,” Whalestar muttered into his nest, “we need to be prepared. It could trap us in our own home. We could shelter at Fox Rocks, there are no foxes there right now. Yet will my clan trust me for once?” He shifted so he could look outside his den. Streaks of purple and red dusk covered the sky. Maplesong sat in the center of camp, getting reports from the evening patrols. “He may do his job, but does he ever consult me? His own leader? Does he ever tell me of the day’s events?”

Whalestar closed his eyes. If he ever needed advice from StarClan, it was now. They would know what to do about the monster in the pond. Tomorrow, he could journey to the Hollow and ask for advice. He could bring along Elmpatch. Out of all his warriors, at least she would listen to him.

“Whalestar, are you sleeping?” Whalestar sat up. Shimmerblaze peered into his den, a rabbit at their feet.  
“What do you want?” Whalestar asked, grooming his paw.

“I brought you some food,” Shimmerblaze explained, pushing the rabbit into the den. “I thought you’d be hungry. I haven’t seen you at the fresh-kill pile all day.”

“I’ve been busy,” Whalestar sighed. He grabbed the rabbit and dragged it closer. “Thank you, Shimmerblaze. How are our warriors?”

“Seabranch is ready to return to work,” Shimmerblaze explained. “Beyond your patrol to the pond, no one’s been hurt today.”

“Good,” Whalestar said with a nod. “Good.” He took a bite of the rabbit. “The other day, Orcathroat mentioned you were in need of more pine bark? If you need to, I give you permission to travel to the outer regions to find what you require.” Shimmerblaze opened their mouth but quickly closed it. Whalestar could smell pity wafting from their pelt like the stink of mouse bile. Why did they pity him?

“As you wish, Whalestar,” Shimmerblaze mumbled. They slipped out of Whalestar’s den. Whalestar took another bite of his rabbit, his brain churning for an answer to Shimmerblaze’s shift in behavior.

Hold on. Orcathroat was dead. He had been dead for moons upon moons. Why did Whalestar think he was alive?

He shoved the rabbit away and curled into his nest like a frightened kit. How did he forget the death of a clanmate, a healer, his first  _ son _ ? He had truly thought Orcathroat was alive. That shouldn’t have happened. How did Orcathroat die? Why couldn’t Whalestar remember? With a groan of desperation, Whalestar slapped his fresh-kill into the wall of his den. He ran a clawed paw down his muzzle. He needed to remember. How did Orcathroat die?

There was something mingled in the rabbit’s death wound. Tiny black specks spilled from the rabbit’s throat like blood. Whalestar lowered his paw. Had Shimmerblaze given him crowfood? He moved closer. The black specks were poppy seeds. There were poppy seeds in his fresh-kill. Shimmerblaze hadn’t given him crowfood, they tried to poison him!

“How dare you,” Whalestar hissed. “My own healer doesn’t trust me anymore. No one trusts me.” Whalestar turned from the rabbit and laid back down. “I am the leader of PuffinClan. I know what is best. If no one will help me, I will do it myself.”

\------

Troutkit wasn’t sleepy. He lay curled by his sister against Deerwhisker’s belly, but he was wide awake. He was so bored! Even though it was closer to dawn than dusk and the sky was black, he wanted to play! He wanted a story. He wanted adventure! He’d go to sleep, sure. After he had a bit of fun.

Troutkit squirmed away from Dustkit and carefully slipped under Deerwhisker’s tail. Since they were the only ones in the nursery, it would be easy to sneak out! He grabbed a moss ball his sister had abandoned earlier that night and trotted into camp. It was so quiet! If anyone was awake, they were bound to be out of camp. Troutkit tossed his moss ball in the air and slapped it away. He held back a laugh. He couldn’t make any noise if he wanted to play! He pounced on the moss and dug his tiny claws into it.

Whalestar slipped out of his den, tossing the remains of his uneaten meal to the side. Troutkit froze, staring at his leader. Was he going to get into trouble for being out of the nursery? Would Whalestar host a trial?

“I’ll be more successful alone anyway,” Whalestar grumbled. He snuck through the camp, climbing to the second layer. Troutkit couldn’t resist. He silently followed, pulling himself up the slopes after him. Whalestar climbed out of camp, only a tail-length from Nettlestone on guard duty. She nodded to Whalestar and continued scanning the fields. Troutkit crouched below her. He couldn’t follow Whalestar out of camp that way. He looped around the camp to the opposite side, facing Nettlestone’s back. Troutkit poked his head up. Breezeclaw was a few fox-lengths away, looking around for something. If Troutkit wanted to escape, he had to go now! He pulled himself over the edge onto the grass. He bolted left towards a hill with steeper inclines than the rolling fields around him. He tumbled behind the hill and stayed crouched, listening.

“Oh, you’re back,” Breezeclaw sighed. On the other side of the hill, Snailnose and Swiftflake strolled towards camp. Swiftflake bit back a yawn.

“The CliffClan counselors weren’t at the border,” Snailnose sighed. Troutkit’s ears perked up. It was his big brother!

“Even the rabbits are asleep right now,” Swiftflake yawned. “We should have gone when it was light out. There’s no point in negotiating for chamomile at a time like this.”

“CliffClan is more active at night than you’d think,” Nettlestone commented from across the camp hole. As she looked over her shoulder at the three toms, she failed to see the tiny brown kit crawling around the hill, following Whalestar’s path.

“They’re underground so much, they don’t keep track of daylight,” Breezeclaw chuckled.

“I do,” Swiftflake sighed. “Goodnight!” He slipped into camp, dramatically flicking his tail as he hopped down.

“Have fun guarding camp,” Snailnose sighed, following the younger counselor down. Swiftflake went straight to the warrior’s den, but Snailnose continued down. He strolled to the holy den and glanced inside. Murkstream slept close to the exit, her tiny legs hidden in the dark. Archpelt slept on his back, one leg kicking in a deep dream. Snailnose smiled at his father and hopped to the lower level. He poked his head into the nursery. His mother was sound asleep, muzzle touching Dustkit. There were only two cats in the nest.

“Mom?” Snailnose whispered, stepping inside. He peered around the den, but he couldn’t see Troutkit anywhere. He gently shoved his mother’s shoulder. “Mom?” Deerwhisker groaned and opened an eye.

“Snailnose?” Deerwhisker whispered. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I just got back from a patrol, I wanted to check on you before I slept,” Snailnose huffed. “Mom, where’s Troutkit?” Deerwhisker glanced at her belly. Troutkit was nowhere to be seen.

“Troutkit?” Deerwhisker gasped. She stood, her paw knocking into Dustkit. “Troutkit?”

“I’m trying to sleep,” Dustkit ground, burying her face into the nest.

“Let’s not panic,” Snailnose stammered. “I don’t smell any predators and the den isn’t damaged, he probably wandered off.” Deerwhisker hurried into camp. She stepped on the moss ball just outside the den. She snatched the moss in her claws. Her pupils narrowed, fur rising.

“Mom, breathe,” Snailnose stammered, rushing to his mom’s side. “Breathe, he can’t have gotten far.”

“Maybe he went to make dirt?” Deerwhisker asked, voice rising in pitch.

“I would have seen him when I entered camp,” Snailnose sighed. “I know you get panicky when your kits aren’t with you, trust me, I remember, but let’s take this slow.”

“Troutkit?” Deerwhisker yowled. She climbed to the second layer of camp. “Troutkit!”

Inside the warrior’s den, Maplesong was deep in a dream of bird song and endless prey when he heard something outside the den. Someone was talking loudly. Didn’t they know cats were trying to sleep? Maplesong groaned, standing. Swiftflake was awake and looking around as well. To Maplesong’s dismay, Elmpatch was sleeping by her sister that night. Maplesong trudged out of the den and looked around. Breezeclaw and Nettlestone looked down from their spots above camp to examine the source of the noise too. Deerwhisker sniffed around the holy den, ears and tail raised in alarm.

“Deerwhisker, what are you doing?” Maplesong groaned.

“Troutkit’s missing,” Deerwhisker explained, staring up at Maplesong with wide slit eyes. “He’s not making dirt and he’s nowhere in camp.”

“Our territory is an open field, he couldn’t have snuck past Nettlestone and Breezeclaw,” Maplesong sighed.

“He’s the size of a rabbit,” Breezeclaw admitted, ignoring Deerwhisker’s eye contact. “If he snuck out of camp, we could have mistaken him for one. It’s a dark night.”

“StarClan knows how long he’s been gone!” Deerwhisker groaned, sitting in defeat. Archpelt stepped out of the holy den, concerned.

“What’s happening?” Archpelt asked.

“Troutkit’s missing,” Snailnose huffed, climbing up to the holy den. Maplesong faced the interior of the warrior’s den.

“Everyone up!” he called, skirting around the den. “Wake up! We have a missing kit on our paws!”

“Don’t suppose some of us can stay sleeping,” Twigbrook grumbled.

“There are foxes beyond our territory this time of year who’d be more than happy to eat Troutkit,” Maplesong snapped. PuffinClan began to stir, hurrying to their feet. “We need our best trackers. We don’t know when he left camp. Snailnose and Elmpatch, with me. Seabranch, wake Bumblepaw, he has a strong nose. You can stay here, your paw may be better but I don’t want you running across the territory.” Maplesong’s chosen cats sprung into action. Snailnose led Elmpatch out of camp. The apprentices were already out of their den, so Seabranch didn’t have to strain herself to get her apprentice. “Everyone else, keep an eye out for Troutkit while we’re gone. I trust you to follow any leads on his whereabouts if you find them.” Maplesong hurried out of camp.

“I want to come with,” Shimmerblaze huffed, following Maplesong, “in case he’s hurt.”

“Of course,” Maplesong grunted. Bumblepaw stumbled past them, joining the other three cats on the search party. They were still, carefully walking about and tasting the air.

“Troutkit!” Bumblepaw yowled. “Come on out. You’re scaring everyone!” Snailnose padded over the crest of a nearby hill.

“I’m sorry, Maplesong,” Breezeclaw sighed. “I don’t know how he could have snuck past us.”

“Is there anyone still out of camp?” Maplesong asked.

“Whalestar left not long ago,” Nettlestone noted. “I don’t know where he was going, though.” Maplesong hid his worry. Whalestar was allowed to leave camp, he could do what he wished. Maplesong shouldn’t worry if his leader can handle himself.

“He was over here recently,” Snailnose called from behind the hill. “He went south.”

“Lead the way,” Maplesong said with a nod. Snailnose trotted down Whalestar’s path, the patrol at his heels.

By the time the search party started down the path, Whalestar was just arriving at the pond. Troutkit stayed far back, curiosity burning his pelt. Were they near one of the borders? He caught sight of the reed covered pond. He had never seen so much water in one place before! He couldn’t imagine what the ocean must look like. Whalestar paced around the pond, claws out.

“You dare mock me?” he hissed at the pond. “The leader of PuffinClan? I have faced more foes than you can imagine. I have led my clan with strength and dignity. You shall not destroy our legacy. Cats shall no longer supplement your diet. Your terrorism ends here.” Who was Whalestar talking to? Was there a SealClan warrior lurking in the pond? Did SealClan warriors  _ eat other cats _ ?

Whalestar knew to approach carefully this time. He had tried to jump in the day before and even though he acted brave, the feeling of water entering his lungs filled him with fear. He wouldn’t win a fight by charging into the pond. He didn’t come without a plan, though. He began to sniff around, his worn ears straining for the sound of prey. Troutkit snuck closer, desperate to find out what was happening. Whalestar snuck into the reeds. When he emerged, he had a frog in his mouth. Troutkit held back a gasp. He didn’t even see the reeds ruffle!

Whalestar bit into the frog hard. Blood pooled around his fangs. He dropped the frog and began spreading its blood across the shore. Now that seemed strange to Troutkit. Was Whalestar wasting prey? That was against the warrior code! The pond licked at the blood, tinging the water red.

“The smell of blood will drive you up,” Whalestar growled. “You can’t resist an easy meal.” He clawed at the frog and continued spreading the remains around the shore. Troutkit was utterly confused now. Whalestar paced around his kill, never taking his eyes off the water. A fish rippled the water nearby. Whalestar clawed at the water with the fury of a warrior in battle, spilling more frog blood into the pond.

“I almost had you!” he hissed, slamming a paw into the waves. “I know you’re hungry. Come on!” He stomped the water, splashing and kicking about. “Eat me! Eat me!” Whalestar yowled, slamming both front paws down with a loud splash. He stared at his reflection, panting, shaking slightly. Troutkit approached quietly, trying to look into Whalestar’s eyes.

“I’ve seen you,” he cried, claws digging deep into the mud. “You’re in there, I know you are! I’m not mad!” He stared at the sky, fur bristling. “Do you hear me, StarClan? I’m not mad!” Troutkit was just beside him now, mud climbing over his paws. Whalestar stared at his paws and mumbled “I’m not mad.”

“Whalestar?” Troutkit asked.

The reaction was swift. Whalestar saw a cat sitting beside him. He was supposed to be alone. No one followed him out of camp. The only thing this cat could be is a trespasser to the territory. Trespassers had to be dealt with. The thought flashed through his head for half a second as he spun around. He dug his teeth into Troutkit’s scruff in a battle-hold. The kit squealed, panic overwhelming him. Whalestar wasn’t ready for the cat’s light weight. He flung Troutkit off his feet and sent him flying over the pond like a bird. 

“Whalestar!” Troutkit yowled as he soared across the water. He slammed into the middle of the pond with a big splash. Whalestar glared at the enemy cat and paused. The scent that filled his nose was of PuffinClan. That wasn’t an enemy warrior, it wasn’t even a warrior!

“No,” Whalestar whispered in horror. “StarClan, what have I done? Troutkit!”

The yowl flew across the territory. It reverberated through a rabbit burrow, sending a pair of hares scattering. It glided through the wind to a patrol of five cats watching the fields. Bumblepaw’s ears perked up as the distant yowl triggered his senses.

“Who was that?” Bumblepaw asked. Maplesong turned towards the sound. Weren’t they near the pond? Oh StarClan, not again.

“Elmpatch, Shimmerblaze, let’s check it out,” Maplesong ordered. “Snailnose, Bumblepaw, continue on the trail.” Maplesong ran, his feet steady even as he bolted through the dark. Elmpatch kept pace, jumping over the hills. Shimmerblaze lagged behind, not used to such hard work.

At the pond, there was no hesitation. As soon as Whalestar screamed in horror, he dove into the pond towards the large splashing mess. Troutkit kicked at the water, trying to pull his head above the surface. The water dragged him deeper. His eyes burned. He tried to breathe, but water filled his lungs. His feet couldn’t find the ground. His chest felt ready to explode and burn him alive. He kept trying to claw his way to the surface, but he just went deeper and deeper.

Whalestar wasn’t fairing much better. He paddled further through the pond, straining to keep his head up. The splashing started to calm down. Whalestar swam harder, muzzle dipping below the water. He just had to pull him up. He didn’t want to hurt a kit, he didn’t realize what was happening!

Troutkit was cold. The cool water poured through his skin and froze his bones. His legs kicked weakly as he floated in the water. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the burning.

Whalestar dove. He couldn’t see anything in the murky water, but he knew where Troutkit was. His front paws pulled him ahead as he violently kicked his back legs. His claws stretched, reaching for something resembling fur. His lungs burned, but he dared not breathe. He had to go deeper.

Above the water, all that remained was ripples that cascaded through the pond, highlighting a path of travel from the shore. As Maplesong, Elmpatch, and Shimmerblaze stepped into view, they saw nothing amiss.

“Maybe the sound came from farther ahead?” Elmpatch asked.

“No, it came from the pond,” Maplesong huffed. “It had to be Whalestar. Who else would be out here?”

“What’s his obsession with the pond lately?” Elmpatch asked. Maplesong didn’t get the chance to respond. Whalestar breached from the pond like his namesake, a limp ball of brown fur in his jaws. His fur glistened with moonlight, strength filling his joints in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Great StarClan!” Shimmerblaze gasped, racing to the shore. They put poppy seeds in his prey, how was he out here? Even though they moved first, Elmpatch beat them there.

“He has Troutkit!” Elmpatch exclaimed, bouncing on her paws. “Whalestar! This way!” Whalestar’s head went back under water, leaving only Troutkit’s face visible. He re-emerged a second later, clawing his way to the shore. Maplesong trudged into the water.

“Give me Troutkit!” he yowled. For once, his leader obeyed. As he got near the shore, he dropped Troutkit into the shallow water. Maplesong grabbed him and dragged him to dry land.

“Out of the way,” Shimmerblaze snapped, shoving Maplesong aside. Troutkit wasn’t breathing. Shimmerblaze pressed their paw into Troutkit’s chest, hard. The little kit spasmed and vomited up water. He coughed hard, curling up. Shimmerblaze licked his head, helping him cough it all up. Whalestar emerged from the pond soaked but standing tall. He went into a coughing fit as Maplesong approached him. The young deputy spotted the mangled frog not too far away.

“What happened?” Elmpatch asked.

“Troutkit, how do you feel?” Shimmerblaze whispered, laying beside the shivering kit. Troutkit didn’t respond. Shimmerblaze wrapped their tail around him and gently groomed his pelt to warm him up. The tang of blood entered Shimmerblaze’s mouth. They looked closer at Troutkit’s scruff. There was a large bite mark on his back. 

“I was hunting for the beast,” Whalestar stammered, the glittering in his pelt fading. Maplesong’s fur stood on end.

“Whalestar, there is no monster in the pond!” Maplesong shouted, his muzzle to Whalestar’s face. “It is a story! You are fighting nothing!” Whalestar sat in the water, shivering.

“What’s happening to me, Maplesong?” Whalestar muttered, wide eyes making contact with Maplesong. “I’m not like this. I’ve forgotten who my clanmates are. I’ve neglected my duties.”

“He threw me into the pond!” Troutkit cried, burrowing into Shimmerblaze’s chest. “I asked him what was wrong, and he tossed me into the pond!” Elmpatch’s jaw dropped. Maplesong’s whole body sagged.

“You attacked a kit?” Elmpatch gasped, turning to Whalestar.

“It wasn’t my intention!” Whalestar snapped. “I reacted! There’s something wrong with me.” Whalestar stepped closer to the tiny kit. “Troutkit, you have my deepest regrets.” Troutkit whined, hiding deeper into Shimmerblaze. Whalestar moved back, tail tucked under him. Maplesong rested his tail on Whalestar’s back.

“Whalestar,” Maplesong sighed, “you need to retire. Rest. Let me take on leadership.”

“Not yet,” Whalestar huffed, slipping away. “You haven’t been a deputy long enough. Perhaps if Cootspring were still alive… you cannot fight, and your hunting skills are poor. It would be an invitation for the other clans to attack. I do not trust myself to teach you your missing skills.”

“I can teach him!” Elmpatch chirped.

“You are young,” Whalestar muttered. “Inexperienced. Breezeclaw would be a better teacher.”

“I may not understand what’s happening right now,” Elmpatch huffed, standing tall, “but if I know anything, it’s how to fight.”

“If you slip up in front of the other clans—” Maplesong stuttered.

“No, Maplesong,” Whalestar grunted, voice firm. “Let me speak. I don’t know how long my mind will be this clear. I may never be this way again. You are not ready to be a leader proper. Yet, until you learn all you can of the burdens of leadership, I shall act as though I am your deputy. I shall advise you and teach you what I can, but I cannot be trusted to lead my clan.” He looked at Troutkit, regret swimming in his murky eyes. “Not after this. It would be best if you guide me away from the kits. I do not trust myself to stay my claws should they surprise me.” Whalestar rested his wet nuzzle on Maplesong’s head. “Know that I always trust you, Maplesong. Even if I yowl and scream, know that I did not choose you by accident. You will make a wonderful leader.” Maplesong breathed his leader’s scent in, calming his nerves. He could do this. If Whalestar trusted him, he had to trust himself.

“I like the plan,” Elmpatch groaned, “but what are we going to do about all this? The clan won’t be happy if they learn Whalestar attacked Troutkit. It's gonna be tough to explain why they’re wet. They might decide to exile Whalestar!”

“Whalestar was a hero tonight,” Shimmerblaze declared, nuzzling Troutkit. “When Troutkit tried to swim in the pond and nearly drowned, he saved him. He was a bit rough, but none of us are swimmers. It was an accident. That’s what we’ll tell the story-keepers.”

“But Whalestar threw me,” Troutkit whined, meeting Shimmerblaze’s eye.

“Troutkit,” Shimmerblaze sighed, “you can’t tell anyone that. If Whalestar gets in trouble, the other clans may attack us. Your clanmates could get hurt. Do you understand?”

“Can I tell Dustkit?” Troutkit asked.

“Tell no one,” Shimmerblaze warned. “You’ll be in even more trouble if you do.” Troutkit curled into himself. He was just curious. He didn’t want to be punished anymore than he knew he would. He nodded softly, trying to hide his fear.

“That applies to all of us,” Maplesong added. “Elmpatch, go fetch Snailnose and Bumblepaw. Tell them we found Troutkit and we are heading back to camp.” Elmpatch nodded and zoomed away.

“Maplesong, tell me honestly,” Whalestar sighed, watching Elmpatch run. “Have I been a good leader?”

“You’ve led this clan for countless lifetimes,” Maplesong assured him, tail rubbing his back. “But even the greats succumb to age.”

Maplesong, Whalestar, Shimmerblaze, and Troutkit started back to camp. If only they had looked over their shoulders. Then they might have seen the large tailfin slip silently over the water before diving back down.


End file.
